


The Blessing of Being Reinstated.

by Mistical52



Series: The Benefits of Saving Life Itself [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a cherub, Everything's Fine, Flaming Sword, I'm just having some fun, M/M, i love them, idk what to tag this, these boys are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 05:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistical52/pseuds/Mistical52
Summary: Crowley screeched and flattened himself against the kitchen wall, “I thought you were going to miracle a butter knife?!”“I planned to!” Cried Aziraphale eyes wide. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all!“That’s not a hot knife! That’s a flaming bloody sword!” Yelled Crowley.





	The Blessing of Being Reinstated.

A short while after the Apocalypse-that-was-not God decided to reinstate her loyal angel, Principality Aziraphale to his former position as a Cherub. Which Aziraphale would have said was brilliant whilst being humbly grateful, that is if he had actually known about his reinstatement. It was very much like the time Aziraphale got demoted. God herself had never actually mentioned it, but at least he was informed through Heaven that he was actually demoted. Aziraphale had started to wonder why he couldn’t feel his secondary set of wings or open more than one pair of eyes. Once Heaven told him Aziraphale had shuffled about a bit and quietly said something along the lines of ‘Oh of course’.

Regardless, Aziraphale didn’t actually know he was reinstated, (1) (2) (3) because of the fact that gaining access to powers that hadn’t been used in just over 6,000 years was like using a limb that had fallen to sleep. You could not feel the limb unless you used it and Aziraphale simply didn’t use his hundreds of extra eyes or his second set of wings while on the human plane in day to day life. He rarely used his primary set of wings. 

Limbs are slow to wake up, abilities, however, aren’t as slow.

Aziraphale was in the kitchen of his bookstore, trying to find a knife to butter toast for him and Crowley to have with their very English breakfast (4).

“Aziraphale, breakfast is getting cold, just use one of the knives in the sink.” Complained Crowley who was leaning against the counter as he pointed to the four or so dirty blunt knives in the kitchen sink.

“I most certainly will not. They’re not clean, it’s unsanitary.” Responded Aziraphale looking shocked and somewhat appalled at the suggestion.

Crowley let out a sigh his whole body moving with it, “Fine. Either miracle one or I will.”

Aziraphale straightened, “I know I have more around, I got a lovely silver set in Prague in 1851.” (5)

Crowley glanced at the angel over his glasses with a flat expression.

Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped, “Alright, fine. I need a hot knife anyway, this butter is as solid as rock.” Said Aziraphale gesturing to the block of butter in its shallow glass tray.

Aziraphale summoned a hot knife into existence and moved to cut the butter. The angel practically jumped back with a yelp when he saw the fire which was licking at the blade he held.

“What on Earth?!” Exclaimed Aziraphale holding the flaming sword away from his person.

Crowley screeched and flattened himself against the kitchen wall, “I thought you were going to miracle a butter knife?!”

“I planned to!” Cried Aziraphale eyes wide. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all! 

“That’s not a hot knife! That’s a flaming bloody sword!” Yelled Crowley.

“You don’t think I know that!” Shouted back Aziraphale, who was panicking and flailing his arms around.

“Angel, stop waving the sword around, you’ll burn down the shop again!” Yelped Crowley as he shuffled a bit closer, hands out, still very wary of staying out of the sword’s range.

“Right! Right!” Said Aziraphale, bringing the sword in closer to himself and holding it upright so he was less likely to hit something. “Why do I have my sword?!”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who summoned it!” Responded Crowley, who had now shuffled a few centimetres closer.

“I didn’t mean to!” Whined Aziraphale. “I just wanted a hot knife.”

“Well, you got more than you asked for.” Jested Crowley.

“Why do I have my sword, Crowley? I gave it back to the mailman and I don’t have the power to summon it.”

“I, well clearly you do.” Said Crowley.

“But I lost that ability when I got demoted.” Aziraphale pointed out.

Crowley just shrugged, he didn’t have a good response for that. “Can you, uh turn it off maybe? Fire in the shop makes me nervous.” (6)

For a just a moment Aziraphale frowned before he realised what Crowley meant, “Oh, right, yes of course dear.” The fire on the sword died and Aziraphale placed the rapidly cooling sword on the counter.

Crowley stood next to Aziraphale and they both stood over the sword together. The pair exchanged looks.

“What does this mean if I can summon my sword again?” Asked Aziraphale quietly. The angel could guess, he already had, but he could use a second opinion.

Both beings looked back to the sword.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, “Heaven if I know, I’m a demon. I don’t know how flaming swords work. Barely now how to use a regular sword.”

Aziraphale swallowed, “Well, it looks like some of my powers might have been reinstated.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Said Crowley eying the sword with wary eyes.

~~~

(1) Heaven didn’t talk to Aziraphale anymore.

(2) Not since the body switch. Which both Crowley and Aziraphale were immensely grateful for.

(3) Not that it actually mattered because God didn’t talk to Heaven about anything anymore.

(4) It consisted of bacon, the good meaty kind, scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, and tea, or in Crowley’s case coffee.

(5) The Prague City Archives had just been established and Aziraphale spent a wonderful week or so looking through the entire collection.

(6) Crowley had nightmares about the burning bookstore.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, so it's practically 1:30 am and I haven't proofread this as much as I usually do. So sorry about any mistakes.  
Feel free to point any out. This is also my first time writing in the style of Good Omens. so if the citations (?) are weird I'm sorry. IDK about the best way to do them. 
> 
> I love these boys. They're so beautiful.  
This may or may not turn into a small collection of events. It all depends on my motivation and how busy uni keeps me. Oh, and how much sleep I'm willing to get. 
> 
> Also, if anyone follows me I know it's been a while. Sorry. Life (uni) and lack of motivation kicked in.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please kudo or comment.  
Your kudos roar 'Highway to Hell' for Hell and it's crew, while your comments gracefully sing 'The Hills Are Alive' for Heaven and it's occupants.


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